


no type

by billionairevolleyboysclub



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a bad bitch but he doesn't know it yet, M/M, Post-Time Skip, and also a virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29283444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billionairevolleyboysclub/pseuds/billionairevolleyboysclub
Summary: Osamu only dates bad bitches“Like what?”Bokuto’s sandwich stops halfway to his mouth. His eyes flick up to meet Akaashi’s for a moment before he quickly looks to a spot just past Akaashi’s ear.“What?” Bokuto repeats, playing dumb.Akaashi clears his throat.“What’s Osamu’s reputation like?”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei
Comments: 12
Kudos: 238





	no type

**Author's Note:**

> what team in hq plays heavy rap during their warmups and why is it fukurodani 
> 
> (it’s always the rich boys who like to blast hip hop in their obnoxious private school gyms)
> 
> anyway title is from “no type” by rae sremmurd and yes this turned out waaay longer than it was supposed to

It started at Atsumu’s party that they weren’t supposed to call a party. 

“Its’a friendly gatherin’,” Atsumu explained as he lined up a row of shot glasses in the kitchen. 

“Right,” Akaashi responded, sidestepping out of the kitchen before he was recruited into taking one of the aforementioned shots. 

Apparently their coach had banned them from weekday partying while they were in-season. But the Miya’s birthday landed smack dab on a Wednesday that year and as most people around them know – what the Miyas want, they tend to get. 

Miya Osamu included. 

Minute one of swapping the kitchen for the living room involved Akaashi scanning the room for any familiar face, _anyone–_ minute two found his vision invaded by Miya Osamu’s broad figure and minute five found them in the corner of the room, the birthday boy boxing him in with a hand on the wall behind them. 

He lost track of whether it was around minute seven or eight that he found himself agreeing to go on a date the next week, hand sweaty around the neck of his beer bottle. 

“Great,” Osamu replied, clearly a little drunk as he let his lidded gaze fall down to Akaashi’s mouth. “It’s a date then.” 

Suddenly his gaze snapped back up to meet Akaashi’s, and he bit into his bottom lip with a pearly white canine as his mouth curved in a sideways smile. 

“Whatta great gift, Keiji.” 

And at that minute ten, Akaashi, the secret hopeless-romantic-at heart, could already guess he was about to be deep in over his head.

++

Bokuto only confirms his suspicions a few days later when they’re grabbing lunch. 

“Myaa-sam?” Bokuto asks through a bite of his sandwich. “You’re going on a date with ‘Tsumu’s brother?”

“Yes Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies, “He asked me out at their birthday party and he’s coming over to my apartment this weekend.”

“Oho? Moving fast already?” Bokuto says, eyebrows waggling. 

Akaashi suppresses the flush that threatens to break out across his cheeks. 

“It’s not like that. He offered to cook for me after I told him I don’t get much use out of my kitchen.” 

“Sure,” Bokuto replies, “Just given, you know, a reputation like that, I’m sure it'll be a good date.”

Bokuto picks his sandwich back up to take another bite, unaware of the bomb he’s just dropped on Akaashi’s blood pressure.

Akaashi stares at him blankly.

“Like what?”

Bokuto’s sandwich stops halfway to his mouth. His eyes flick up to meet Akaashi’s for a moment before he quickly looks to a spot just past Akaashi’s ear. 

It’s a habit he’s picked up when there’s something he wants to avoid saying. 

“What?” Bokuto repeats, playing dumb. 

Akaashi clears his throat. 

“What’s Osamu’s reputation like?”

Bokuto shoves his sandwich into his mouth at once to avoid answering. 

Akaashi patiently waits until he’s nearly done chewing. 

“You know,” Bokuto says, muffled. “His reputation for being…. a good date.” He finishes weakly, swallowing. 

Akaashi raises an eyebrow before sitting back with his arms crossed, pushing his coffee away. 

“By who? Who else has said he’s a good date?”

Bokuto looks on the verge of breaking out in a sweat. Bokuto either says everything or nothing and Akaashi can tell he’s making a concentrated effort to say nothing at the moment. 

“You know… well… there’s..” Bokuto coughs. “Oikawa-san?”

Akaashi blinks. 

“The Argentinian player? Hinata’s Brazil friend?”

Bokuto nods. 

“Oh,” Akaashi says. He absorbs the information for a moment before reaching back out for his cup of coffee. He decides he’s fine with it. 

Akaashi himself has never really had much luck with dating. There were a few dates here and there during college but nowadays he doesn’t have the time nor the spark really. 

So what if he doesn’t really have many notches in his belt? Or any for that matter.

“I didn’t know they ever dated.”

“They didn’t really,” Bokuto explains, relief palpable. “Think they met up a few times when everyone was around for the Olympics.” 

“Ah.”

Akaashi returns to picking at his pastry, small flakes shaking off with each prick of his fork. He glances up at Bokuto through his brows. By the way Bokuto still won’t meet his gaze he can tell that isn’t all of it. 

He decides to prod further.

“Who else?” he asks. 

“Hmmm?”

“Who else has he gone on a date with?”

Bokuto hums, hands folding in his lap as he looks up at Akaashi through his lashes as if asking for mercy. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi sighs, letting his brow unfurrow. “Please just tell me. I won’t be mad, whatever it is.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise,” Akaashi replies. He won’t be mad for sure, but his confidence going into this date may just be dwindling by the second.

Bokuto grimaces before answering. 

“I know he also went on a date with Sakusa.”

Akaashi blinks once again. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi? His brother’s boyfriend Sakusa?”

Bokuto nods rapidly. “This was before they started dating. The team jokes around that Omi-san had to do a trial run to make sure it wasn’t just a physical thing.”

Akaashi internally questions why Bokuto would think that detail would make him feel better.

“So he slept with Sakusa? Osamu slept with Sakusa is what you are saying to me.” Akaashi states. 

Bokuto’s hummed non-answer arrives in an impressive high pitch. 

“Is there anyone else I should know about?” Akaashi asks, he’s not quite at his wits end but he thinks maybe a few more minutes of this and it could be just around the corner. He picks up his water to take a sip.

Bokuto clears his throat. He looks like he’s resigned himself to the fact that he’ll have to give it to Akaashi straight before he can be freed from what has turned into a disastrous lunch. 

“Tsukishhmmma–” Bokuto mumbles. “Tsukishima, he went on a date with Tsukishima.”

Akaashi’s glass stops in mid-air. 

“You’re kidding me.”

“I don’t think they slept together!” Bokuto exclaims, voice way too loud for a crowded cafe at noon on a weekend. “And I’m pretty sure he was just trying to make Kuroo jealous, you know how those two are!”

Akaashi does in fact, know how Kuroo and Tsukishima are. That doesn’t change the fact that he’s just learned his close friend (and apparently a _number_ of friends of friends) had a _romantic encounter_ with someone he could accurately describe as a longtime crush, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s feeling more embarrassed by the second. 

He takes a moment to compose himself. 

“Have all of our acquaintances been on a date with Osamu-san?”

“That’s all that I know of,” Bokuto responds meekly. 

Akaashi lets out a breath through his nostrils. 

“Ok.”

“‘Kaashi,” Bokuto starts, eyeing him warily once again. “There is something else you should probably know.”

“There’s more?”

Bokuto ignores him. 

“So, uh – the team only really caught wind of it because Jackals PR had to get involved at one point since folks online thought it might be Atsumu at first… and I thought you might’ve already seen the chatter about it a few months ago but…”

Akaashi waits expectantly. 

“He’s also got a sex tape?” Bokuto finishes, voice curving high into a question near the end. 

Akaashi can’t do anything but stare at him. 

Bokuto smiles hesitantly back.

When Akaashi does finally move it’s to gently place his forehead against the cool glass of their bistro table. 

Bokuto looks around at the other patrons around them, smiling awkwardly at the young couple staring at them from a few rows down. 

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, voice muffled by the glass. “What am I going to do? He’s going to eat me alive.”

“Well,” Bokuto begins, bringing his eyeline down to try to meet Akaashi’s. “I mean it kinda looks like he’d be good at that.”

“You know,” Bokuto continues, trailing off reluctantly. “Judging from the… uh.. sex tape.”

++

He dials Tsukishima’s number the second he’s managed to wrangle his soul back into his body and leave the wretched cafe he now can never return to without risking some form of post-traumatic stress. 

Tsukishima picks up on the second ring. 

“Hello?”

Akaashi gets straight to the point. He never gets to be the confrontative one in their friend group and he’s going to quite enjoy it while he can. 

“You went on a date with Osamu?”

There’s silence on the other side of the line for long enough that Akaashi knows he’s caught Tsukishima off guard – something that doesn’t happen as often as it should.

“I did.” Tsukishima responds. From the background noise Akaashi can tell he’s moving from a public place into somewhere quieter. “What about it?”

“Why didn’t you mention it when I told you I was going on a date with him yesterday.”

He can almost see Tsukishima’s shrug through the phone. “I didn’t think it mattered.”

Akaashi sighs.

He needs new friends outside of the ones he met in high school. They clearly don’t care about his wellbeing anymore. 

“Perhaps, but I would’ve appreciated not hearing it from Bokuto.”

Tsukishima makes a noncommittal noise but Akaashi can tell from his tone he now feels at least a little bit bad. 

“It was a single coffee date four months ago – and it didn’t go anywhere. He actually asked about you. Think you made quite the impression the last time you two ran into each other at the game.”

Akaashi hums, unbelieving. 

Tsukishima is quiet for another moment on the other end. Akaashi kind of loves it when Tsukishima has to apologize. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up,” he finally says. “I really did think it was nothing. I forgot about it until you brought it up again.”

“It’s fine,” Akaashi says sincerely. 

Tsukishima sighs. 

“When is your date again?” he asks, changing the subject. 

“This Saturday.”

“Can I stay at yours next weekend then? There’s a new exhibit I want to see at the National Museum.”

Akaashi frowns, shifting his phone to his other ear.

“Why can’t you stay at Kuroo’s?”

“Why would I?” Tsukishima asks, genuine confusion in his voice. 

Akaashi blinks. 

“Fine. Whatever.”

He’s not going to question whatever freakish five-year long cat and mouse game they’re playing. It’s none of his business. 

“You know–,” Tsukishima starts, voice turning sly. 

Akaashi already doesn’t like his tone. The abrasive but respectful 16-year-old he met in a practice gym in Tokyo would never talk to him like this. 

This is definitely Kuroo’s influence even if they still insist they don’t have each others’ numbers. Or acknowledge the fact that they’ve swapped spit on a number of occasions. 

“–it was after I saw that sex tape that I decided to go on that date.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“I’m just saying. I didn’t sleep with him but you definitely should.”

Tsukishima squeezes in a last, “also you should watch it” before Akaashi really does hang up on him. 

++

He’s not going to watch it. 

He’s not going to. 

Despite the fact that Bokuto followed up and told him “apparently it was a favor to a friend to help them get their channel off the ground and you wouldn’t even know it were him if not for a quick glimpse of a mirror and really it’s already been edited out so–”

God. 

What would he even search for if he did want to watch it?

Ex-volleyball player rams twink?

No. That’s way too specific. 

Ultimately, even though he is _definitely (_ probably) not going to watch it, his curiosity gets the best of him. There’s nothing wrong with just checking out a thumbnail right?

He’s not going to give Tsukishima the satisfaction of knowing he caved though. No way. And he can’t ask Bokuto if he ever really wants to look him in the eye again. Plus, Bokuto’s so bad at finding old messages on his phone – knowing him he’d ask someone like Atsumu of all people to re-send him the link and Akaashi absolutely cannot let that happen if he can prevent it. 

He decides to hit up his most internet-savvy friend. He hits up Kenma. 

_From: Akaashi K.  
_ _Can i ask you to find something online for me_

_From: Kenma K.  
_ _what is it_

_From: Akaashi K.  
_ _It’s an old video. Bokuto said something about it being found by jackals’ fans a few months ago?_

A bubble with three dots appears, showing Kenma is currently typing before it quickly stops. 

Akaashi breaks into a sweat. 

_From: Akaashi K.  
_ _Something about people thinking it was atsumu??_

The typing bubble pops back up. 

_From: Kenma K.  
_ _ur all disgusting_

_i only kno of this bc kuroo wouldn’t stop talking about it afte rhe went on that date with tsukishima. i’ll find u the link but u have to get kuroo to stop sending me all of tsukishima’s stories on ig_

_i don't care when he gets a haircut_

_From: Akaashi K.  
_ _Done. I’ll talk to Kuroo_

Kenma sends him one last _“disgusting”_ before a new message comes in with a link. 

_Thx kenma_ he messages back before copying the link and closing his text messages completely. 

He takes a deep breath, glancing furtively around his own living room as he wrestles out his laptop from underneath the couch. 

He pastes the link into his browser and presses play. 

++

He’s one minute in, skipping past whatever flimsy exposition is being set to explain why these people are about to fuck in this hotel room when a familiar-looking broad, _broad_ figure walks into frame only to immediately pull his t-shirt off, revealing the muscled back below.

Akaashi whimpers, slamming his laptop shut. 

++

Saturday comes along much quicker than it has any right to. 

“Hi,” Akaashi breathes out, pulling open his door at the sound of the doorbell. 

“Hiya,” Osamu says with a smile, pulling up his arms to show the bulging grocery bags hanging off of each. “I brought supplies.”

Akaashi tears his eyes away from Osamu’s bicep. 

“You’re too kind.”

Osamu shrugs. 

“I had to. ‘specially after ya told me you’ve never used yer stove,” Osamu says, following Akaashi into his apartment. 

Akaashi flushes. 

“I forgot I told you that. I thought I just told you I didn’t cook much.” 

Osamu puts the bags down on Akaashi’s counter, throwing his head back to let out a genuine laugh. 

“Ya did. Right before I invited myself over.” Osamu looks at Akaashi then, looking slightly sheepish. “Speaking of, m’sorry for accosting ya at the party. I was pretty drunk and I didn’ want ya to think that’s the only reason why I was askin’.” 

Akaashi’s head tilts up from where he’s been unloading the groceries from the bags. Osamu’s face under the faint yellow light from Akaashi’s kitchen looks slightly sheepish, but there’s still a playful glint to his features. 

“You didn’t do any of the sort,” Akaashi responds, cheeks still warm. 

Osamu grins at him, glancing down to help Akaashi unpack. 

“Good. Since I’ve been wantin’ to take ya out for a while now.” 

Akaashi’s hand almost slips on the box of nori he’s pulling out. 

“Ya were just hard to get ahold of in those group settings.” 

Akaashi smiles up at him through his glasses.

“You’re quite popular yourself Myaa-sam,” he responds. “You’re always surrounded by customers or your Inarizaki friends when I see you.”

Osamu steps around Akaashi’s counter, hand finding the small of Akaashi’s back temporarily as he reaches up to place something on Akaashi’s top shelf. 

“Well,” he says, unaware of the heat that has entered Akaashi’s abdomen at the touch of his fingertips. “There’s no one else around now though. Jus’ us.” 

Akaashi swallows, a nervous desire beginning to work its way up his throat. 

“Yeah, just us.”

++

Two hours and multiple onigiri later, Akaashi Keiji is back in his kitchen, pulling pans off of his freshly-minted stove and into the sink. Osamu is still at his dinner table, arms stretched behind his head and chair tilted back on its hind legs. 

“Good?” Osamu asks, as if Akaashi hadn’t spent the last two hours praising his cooking every chance he got. 

Akaashi shoots him a feigned-annoyed look. 

“It was excellent, Myaa-sam,” he says, collecting their dishes and turning on the water. 

Osamu grins. “Well I had an excellent sous-chef.”

Akaashi hides his smile as he continues rinsing dishes and Osamu excuses himself to the restroom. 

He scrubs at a bowl, lost in his own thoughts. It’s been a good night. A very good night. Osamu is charming and handsome and just playful enough to bring Akaashi out of his own head when they talk. 

Although, those are all things he already knew about Osamu. Now he also knows the way his left cheek threatens to dimple when he’s amused, and what he both loves and hates about running his own business. He knows the way Atsumu chewed him out when he found out he wasn’t going to pursue professional volleyball, and the way he later put up the funds for the Tokyo permits, a few years into his contract with the Jackals. 

He knows Osamu has a cursing habit he’s trying to break but that his restaurant staff keep pulling him back into it. 

“I’m jus’ gonna have a kid one day and I can’t be cursin’ up a storm ‘round them all the time,” he’d said, taking a sip of his beer. 

“You definitely want kids then?”

“Oh yeah,” Osamu responded, eyes going soft. “Fer’sure” 

Akaashi feels like internally screaming even at the memory of it. He puts the bowl away to dry, turning his head back to pick up another plate. 

He’s lost in the scrubbing when a soft touch at the small of his back causes him to gasp, quickly followed by the full warmth of Osamu’s chest against his back and – oh. 

Osamu’s head curves around to plant a kiss behind his ear as he crowds him up against the sink and Akaashi straight up drops the plate he was holding. 

“Shit,” Akaashi says, startling at the sound of ceramic hitting steel. 

Osamu chuckles, head popping up to make sure the plate hadn’t shattered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“It’s ok,” Akaashi responds, voice higher than he’d intended. He feels Osamu’s smile drop at the side of his face and when his hand gently curves around his hip, Akaashi’s traitorous nerves cause him to stiffen. 

He’s only tense for a second but it’s long enough for Osamu to immediately pull back, apologetic.

“Uh– sorry, I just–”

He turns around, drying his wet hands quickly on a towel as he pivots to face Osamu. Osamu looks more uncomfortable than he’s been all night. 

Akaashi’s anxiety ratchets up significantly at the look on his face. He can’t let him overthink it, he can’t–

Akaashi leans forward, almost to the point of losing his balance until Osamu’s hands come up to cup his elbows as Akaashi plants his lips on his.

Akaashi catches his weight against his forearms, pressing his mouth firmly against Osamu’s. Osamu seems to take a moment to catch on, but he ultimately does, tilting his head to better slot their lips together. 

He pulls him in closer, almost too quickly, praying that Osamu can’t feel the ridiculous thundering beat in his chest. There’s no reason to be nervous about this they both want it and–

Osamu’s hand comes up to cup his ribcage under his shirt and Akaashi immediately flinches at the cold touch, a small whimper escaping his lips.

Osamu immediately breaks apart from him, quickly removing his hands from Akaashi’s body. A worry line is making its way across Osamu’s forehead and Akaashi gets a sinking feeling in his chest. 

God. He’s just ruined their first kiss. 

“‘Kaashi,” he starts, hesitant. “Are ya ok?”

“Yes,” Akaashi immediately responds. 

Osamu looks at him, unbelieving. 

“Are ya sure? Not to sound dramatic or anythin’, but– everytime I’ve touched ya so far you’ve flinched.”

Akaashi feels like flinching at the statement. 

“Sorry, your hand was cold.”

Osamu’s frown deepens and Akaashi suppresses the urge to try to kiss it away again. 

“Not to get ahead of myself here,” Osamu begins slowly, looking Akaashi directly in the eye. “But we don’ have to do anything tonight ya know?” 

“What do you mean?” Akaashi replies on reflex. He, painfully, thinks he knows what he means. He can’t believe how badly he’s fucking this up. He's never ever going to get laid.

Osamu looks at him patiently.

“Anythin’ at all,” he says, eyes softening. “I’m more than okay just kissin’ ya. And that’s only if you wanna kiss me too.”

Akaashi swallows, tucking his chin in closer to himself.

“Of course I want to kiss you.”

Osamu smiles faintly, but something about his expression is still hesitant. 

“Good, ‘cause I wanna kiss you too.”

Akaashi looks up at him through his lashes, reaching out gradually to place Osamu’s hands back on his hips.

“I also– do want to do more than kiss you, it’s just–,” Akaashi struggles with his words. “I’m just not sure we’re at the same….experience level… and–”

Osamu stops him there, finger coming up to rest against Akaashi’s mouth and definitely causing him to flush more than he already is. 

They stand there for a moment, staring at each other with wide eyes. Osamu scans Akaashi’s face, eyes squinting for a second before he finally speaks. 

“Does this happen t’have anythin’ to do with a certain video.” 

Akaashi feels his breath catch in his throat. 

“No,” he says, unconvincingly. 

Osamu’s handsome features are now _definitely_ looking uneasy and Akaashi’s voice leaves him in a rush. 

“No, nor is it about the fact I know you dated Oikawa and Sakusa and Tsukishima.”

Osamu’s brow unfurrows in surprise, but before a hurt confusion can continue creeping into his eyes, Akaashi rushes to clarify.

“I only say that to explain that, I–,” Akaashi trips over his tongue, brain whirling to figure out how to properly express himself to Osamu without continuing to absolutely tank himself. 

“–I, I’ve never really been in a relationship,” he blurts out. “Or even gone on that many dates.”

“I just don’t really have much experience,” he continues.

He peeks at Osamu. 

“Or any at all.” 

Osamu’s face remains neutral.

“I just didn’t want you to know how – _bad_ – I am at all of this.” 

At that, Osamu’s face immediately relaxes, and unless Akaashi imagines it, he finally allows his body to loosen and slightly lean into Akaashi’s space again. 

“So yer nervous,” Osamu starts slowly, “Not because I have a sex tape or because ya think I’ve dated a lotta people–” 

His hand begins to rub soft circles into Akaashi’s hipbone “–but because ya think you’ll be bad at somethin’?”

Akaashi suddenly feels silly. 

“Maybe.”

Osamu smiles gently, looking at Akaashi with an incredible amount of fondness in his eyes. 

“It’s not’a competition,” he says. “We really don’t hafta do anythin’ you’re not comfortable with. And hey– I seriously don’t mind.”

Osamu leans in, pressing his lips against Akaashi’s cheek, and Akaashi feels the tension in his chest drain out of him completely. 

“Jus’ means there’s less old flames to be jealous of.”

Akaashi turns his cheek in part to give Osamu more access and in part to disguise his own embarrassment. 

“I hope you still mean that when it turns out I _am_ bad at something.”

Osamu laughs against his face, a puff of warm air hitting his cheek. 

“I’ve never dated anyone like ya Keiji.”

“Hmm?” Akaashi says, intelligently. 

“Yer funny,” Osamu says, murmuring against his upper neck. “Yer real funny.”

Akaashi’s brow furrows, and despite how wonderful Osamu feels slightly nuzzling against the side of his face, he has to turn to look at him. 

Akaashi has never been called funny in his life. 

Bokuto is funny. Kuroo is funny in that greasy way of his. 

Akaashi Keiji is not funny. 

And yet, Miya Osamu has peeled his face off of Akaashi’s neck and is now looking at him with crinkled eyes, mouth tilted softly in amusement and not a sign of mockery in his face. 

Akaashi can’t help but smile, chuckling to himself as he brings his hands up to Osamu’s shoulders. He reaches further, interlacing his arms around Osamu’s neck as he pulls him in to meet his mouth in a second kiss. 

Osamu immediately lets himself be pulled in, opening his lips slightly to pull Akaashi’s bottom lip between his. 

Akaashi makes a noise low in his throat. His shoulders relax.

Osamu goes in more easily this time, limber. He coaxes Akaashi’s mouth open with his tongue and licks a single shallow stripe against his bottom lip. 

Akaashi gasps into the kiss, moving one hand to keep Osamu’s face in place against his. Their lips separate for a second before Akaashi once again reconnects them, this time ensuring his tongue meet’s Osamu’s against his bottom lip. 

They continue like that for a few minutes, kiss gradually becoming wetter and wetter as Akaashi lets Osamu press him up against the counter. However, gradually, the tension in his jeans and warmth spreading through his veins is becoming harder and harder to ignore. 

Osamu suddenly breaks away with a groan, head falling to Akaashi’s collarbone.

“M’serious though Akaashi we don’t have to do anything more than this,” he says, peeking up to steal another peck from him. “Yer lips are really soft.”

Akaashi lets out a soft laugh at that, but there’s still a sharp heat in his stomach waiting to be addressed. 

“I know,” he says, moving a hand into Osamu’s hair to gently tug his face back up. He wills away any threatening redness in his cheeks as he speaks.

“But I want to,” he says softly, letting his lips brush Osamu’s. “I want you.”

Osamu lets out a hard breath through his nose at that, grip tightening on Akaashi’s hips.

“I want ya too ‘Kaashi. Want to make you feel good.”

Akaashi’s breath catches and he places his palms on the counter behind him, shifting himself up to make room for Osamu as he steps between his legs. His body is thrumming with anticipation this time, his hand trembling as he grabs a fistful of Osamu’s hair.

Osamu surges up to kiss him, placing a firm grip on Akaashi’s inner thigh. 

Akaashi hums against his mouth, letting Osamu lick into his mouth. When they part, both of their lips are slick. 

“I want you in my bed,” Akaashi whispers against his mouth, feeling bolder by the second. 

“Yeah?” Osamu asks lowly, both hands pulling Akaashi’s hips forward until they’re meeting his. The friction through their jeans is enough to make Akaashi lightheaded. 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok,” Osamu responds, tongue clicking on the ‘k”. “Lead the way.”

Akaashi hops off of the counter, grabbing Osamu’s hand to lead him into his bedroom. He doesn’t bother to turn on the lamp on his nightstand, letting the faint light of the moon guide him to the foot of his bed. 

Osamu sits, pulling a still-standing Akaashi in by the back of his thighs.

“Hey baby,” he says with a grin. 

Akaashi’s heart clenches, and he takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes against Osamu’s forehead.

“You can’t say that. You’re going to kill me.”

Osamu kisses his neck, reaching up to pull his glasses off before putting them on the nightstand next to him. 

“I hope not. There’s plenty else I want to do before that.”

They continue kissing until Akaashi gradually pushes Osamu so that he’s horizontal on his sheets. Akaashi clambers up, planting himself on Osamu’s lap. 

Osamu’s hands come up to grab his ass, and the movement is enough to make them slightly grind against each other. 

“O-oh,” Akaashi says intelligently, clawing at the neck of Osamu’s t-shirt in an attempt to communicate. 

“Should I take it off?” Osamu asks, starting to sound a bit winded himself.

Akaashi nods, moving back far enough to let Osamu pull his t-shirt off over his head. He barely gets a moment to appreciate the view when Osamu dips down to pull the bottom of Akaashi’s own top up, pressing kisses against the flat of his stomach. Osamu’s lower abs tense with the effort required to curl himself up, and Akaashi moans, moving his hand down to feel. 

He allows Osamu to wrangle his own t-shirt off before he pushes them both back down to the bed, kissing Osamu’s neck as he goes. 

“I want to suck you off,” Akaashi says against his neck, mind spinning with how absurdly attracted he is to Osamu. 

“Baby,” is Osamu’s only response. 

Akaashi moves himself down the bed, hands working Osamu’s belt and zipper when Osamu’s brain finally kicks back into gear. 

He grabs Akaashi’s wrist, stilling him. Akaashi looks up at Osamu in confusion. 

“Are ya sure?” Osamu asks, grip loosening on Akaashi’s wrist. “We don’t have to do this tonight. We can wait. I don't wanna rush anythin'.”

Akaashi smiles at him, this incredibly hot, considerate man. But also–

“I’ve been waiting to get laid ever since I stepped back into Fukurodani's locker room during in my second-year,” Akaashi says, moving down to mouth at Osamu’s bulge through his boxers.

"That was six years ago," he explains. “I want to suck you off.”

“O-kay,” Osamu acquises desperately, head falling back to the bed. 

Akaashi gets his pants and boxers off with no more complaints, pulling his own jeans off in the process. 

And when he looks back down at Osamu’s hard cock arching up against his abs, Akaashi can’t help but try to swallow him down. 

Osamu moans loudly in response, guttural.

“Kaashi, baby–”

Akaashi pulls back, deciding he probably needs more spit before he can try to deep throat Osamu again. That sounds about right. That’s what they do in porn, he thinks. 

Akaashi flicks his lashes up, watching Osamu as he takes him in hand again, this time only moving his tongue against the head before moving down to the shaft. 

“Yeah, that’s good,” Osamu breathes out. “Take yer time with it.”

Akaashi feels the heat rise to his cheeks at Osamu’s words, but he takes his advice, working his way up and down slowly until his hand is also slick with spit as he pumps it, following behind his mouth. 

“Feels good baby.”

Akaashi moves back down to take him in his mouth again, this time moving slower, swirling his tongue around the head. 

Osamu groans again, breath coming in shorter.

Akaashi keeps up the motions, twisting his hand as he goes. His jaw is starting to ache but he can’t bring himself to care, swallowing Osamu down and watching as his abdominal muscles jump in response. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah–” Osamu says, bringing a hand down to comb through Akaashi’s hair gently. 

Akaashi can’t help but whine at that, his free hand coming down to cup himself through his boxers. 

“Fuck,” Osamu lets out, hips twitching with the effort to keep them still. “Keep doing that baby.”

Akaashi does the exact opposite, pulling off. 

“Fuck my face,” he demands, absolutely feeling it in the moment, dizzy with want.

Osamu stares at him for a moment, eyes clouded over with lust. For a second, it looks like he’s going to agree, hand twitching in Akaashi’s hair. 

“M’not doing that,” Osamu finally says, stopping the train before it can even leave the station. 

“Fine,” Akaashi says, moving back down to lick at his head. “Next time.”

“Next time,” Osamu agrees, voice faint.

A few minutes later, Osamu has allowed himself to get a little bit rougher with him, hand knotting in Akaashi’s hair as he gently tries to get him to pull off his cock. 

“Keiji, sweetheart, I’m going to come,” he tries to warn him. 

Akaashi only burrows down further in response, trying to take Osamu as deeply as he can down his throat. These fucking pet names are going to be the end of him. 

Osamu throws his head back when he finally does come and Akaashi can’t help but choke slightly, swallowing what he can before pulling off and letting the rest smear over his open mouth.

Akaashi licks his lips, panting slightly as he works his jaw out. He glances up to look at Osamu, gazing down at him in amazement, pupils blown out into dark orbs. 

“Was that good?” Akaashi asks, voice rasping against his throat. He clears his throat slightly, embarrassment threatening to break out in a flush across his chest. 

“Was that good?” Osamu parrots back, propping himself up and beginning to crawl down toward where Akaashi is kneeling.

“Babydoll,” he says, pushing into Akaashi’s space and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. “That was fuckin’ incredible.” 

Akaashi feels a hot satisfaction course through him, heightened by the firm arm Osamu’s wrapped around his lower back, pulling them together tightly. 

Osamu bites at his lip at the same time that he reaches down with a wet palm to firmly grip Akaashi inside of his boxers and Akaashi can’t help the sharp whine that escapes him. 

“Baby?” Akaashi asks, letting the pet name escape him. 

“Yeah?” Osamu replies, beginning to pump Akaashi’s hard cock with a firm hold. Akaashi trembles in his grip. “What do you want?” 

Akaashi sighs with pleasure, letting one arm wrap around Osamu’s shoulders. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he whispers into his hair.

Osamu doesn’t answer for a moment, choosing instead to continue biting harsh kisses down Akaashi’s throat, no regard for how visible they’ll be the next day. 

He eventually pulls back, pecking Akaashi on the lips once more. 

“Not today.”

Akaashi pouts, trying to keep the sudden disappointment out of his tone. 

“Why not?”

“I want to take my time with you later,” Osamu murmurs against his mouth. “Don’ wanna overwhelm ya today.”

Akaashi sighs into the kiss, swallowing his mild disappointment. 

He does want Osamu’s cock. But he’s also feeling on the precipice of coming already, body thrumming with a whole level of arousal he’s never experienced before. 

“Fine,” Akaashi says, grinding his hips deeper into Osamu’s grip. “What about your fingers?”

Osamu hums. 

“I’ve done it to myself before,” Akaashi continues, letting Osamu push him down against the covers. “I know how good it feels.” 

Osamu shudders at his words, hand stilling on Akaashi’s cock. 

“Ok,” he says, “I can do that for ya baby.”

Akaashi grins, pulling away only to grab a small bottle from the nightstand. He rearranges himself to prop his neck up on a pillow, legs spread below him as Osamu looks on attentively. 

Akaashi doesn’t let himself think for too long, driven only by his desire as he reaches down to stretch himself like he’s used to. He shuts his eyes, letting his neck sprawl to the side even as he feels the spark of Osamu’s gaze over his body. 

Osamu groans out loud, surprising him with a sudden harsh nip to his shoulder. 

Akaashi gasps, eyes flying open. 

Osamu’s eyes are incredibly dark as he reaches down to curve his index finger around where Akaashi’s working a single finger in and out of himself, the other hand ghosting over Akaashi’s cock faintly. 

“Fuck,” Akaashi grits out. 

Osamu’s tone is low when he speaks. 

“Ya were so fuckin’ nervous baby,” he says, licking a hot stripe against Akaashi’s thundering pulse point. “And look at you now. Puttin’ on a show fer me.” 

Akaashi whimpers, hole clenching as he works two fingers in. 

“I’m glad I’m the only one who’s gotten to see this,” Osamu continues. “Feel so fuckin’ special.” 

Akaashi does a poor job of suppressing his sob, the dirty talk doing things to him he didn’t ever know he wanted. 

“Now, Osamu,” he says, on the verge of losing it before Osamu gets a single finger inside of him. “I want your fingers now.”

Osamu gives him one last kiss, hand tangling in his hair before he moves down to kneel between Akaashi’s spread legs. 

He takes a second to lube up his fingers before gently circling his rim, taking his sweet time to push the pad of his finger into Akaashi’s twitching hole. 

“Give me two,” Akaashi breathes out, not sure where his sudden neediness is coming from. “I can take two.”

Osamu curses under his breath, gradually pushing in one finger before following it up with the tip of a second. 

Akaashi groans underneath him. It’s different, he thinks. The feeling is different. Osamu’s fingers are thicker and longer, reaching new spots within him he’s never explored before. 

They’re both breathing hard at this point, Osamu’s other hand back on Akaashi’s cock, moving in a steady rhythm. 

“That feel good baby?” Osamu asks, trying to remain considerate even as he longs to ruin the man below him. “That feel ok?”

“Yes,” Akaashi gasps out, squirming on his fingers. “More than ok.”

“Good,” Osamu replies, cocking his head to get his sweaty bangs out of his eyes. 

“It’s gonna feel so good when I fuck you for real,” Osamu says, hand picking up speed. His two fingers curl inside of Akaashi and a sudden current makes its way up Akaashi’s spine. 

“Then do it now then,” Akaashi rasps, voice gone from whining. “Fuck me now.” 

Osamu groans, bringing his head down to Akaashi’s chest. 

“Next time, I promise,” he says, fingers hitting Akaashi’s prostate suddenly. 

Akaashi arches forward, uncaring at that point, too focused on keeping Osamu’s hand moving against him. 

“Right there Osamu, right there–”

Osamu curses to himself, tongue coming out to lick across Akaashi’s collarbone before he moves lower, tongue flicking against one of Akaashi’s pebbled nipples. 

It’s enough to send him over the edge, Akaashi panting with the sudden wave of pleasure coursing through his entire body. 

“Fuck, fuck. Yes, yes yes–”

His fingers loosen from where they’d been curled in the pillow behind him, and he brings them up to sprawl against the expanse of Osamu’s back, holding on for dear life. 

Osamu continues his movements slowly, wet hand continuing to grip him through the mess on his stomach, before Akaashi finally regains brain function and places a gentle hand on his to stop. 

Akaashi is out of breath, lying on the covers with his eyes shut. Osamu gently slips his fingers out of him too, turning to lie beside him with a small huff. 

They’re both so fucking sweaty. 

Akaashi peeks an eye open once Osamu brings a palm up to pull his face close to his. He lets Osamu kiss him deeply, tongues sliding against each other before Osamu pulls away, placing another kiss on Akaashi’s forehead. 

“Hey baby.”

Akaashi’s heart jumps at the pet name. 

“Hi.”

“How was that?” Osamu asks, the hint of a smile dancing along the corners of his lips. 

Akaashi looks back at him, eyes searching the flat planes of his face as he struggles to find the words, _any words_ , to describe it. 

“Good,” he eventually blurts out, tucking his face into Osamu’s warm shoulder. “More than good.”

Osamu huffs out a chuckle. 

“Good.”

They lay there for a few more moments, Osamu absentmindedly running a hand through Akaashi’s sweaty hair. After a few more minutes Osamu opens his mouth again. 

“Ya know,” he starts, tone letting Akaashi know he’s about to say something playful. “I don’t usually fuck on the first date.”

Akaashi’s head comes up to squint at him, propping himself up with a hand on Osamu’s chest. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks. 

“M’just saying,” Osamu says, grinning. “But for you I had to make an exception.”

Akaashi’s heart clenches stupidly, rolling his eyes in feigned annoyance as he dips down to capture his lips. 

“Well I’m glad you did,” Akaashi says softly when he comes back up, pushing Osamu’s bangs off of his forehead. 

“Ya,” Osamu says. “I’m glad I did too.”

**Author's Note:**

> epilogue:  
> “osamu dates bad bitches because he has a possessive streak that’s based in his desire to consume,” kuroo theorizes out loud the next time they all hang out
> 
> osamu just blinks
> 
> “and you don’t????” akaashi asks, gesturing to where tsukishima is wrapped up protectively in kuroo’s lap 
> 
> “I have no idea what ur talking about” kuroo says 
> 
> ++
> 
> (also my god is smut hard to write. just let me write dialogue. smut writers all my respect goes out to ya’ll. sorry if the smut felt rushed)


End file.
